


Velvet

by apellai



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Musician!Grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 13:42:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14058198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apellai/pseuds/apellai
Summary: His voice was like silk,no, velvet,he thought,it’s silky and smooth like the fine wine he drinks.





	Velvet

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely self-indulgent and I'm not going to apologize for it.

Enjolras barely noticed when Grantaire entered the cafe. He didn’t notice all his friends talking about the acoustic guitar he had in tow - he definitely didn’t notice when R said he’d be performing at an uptight sushi place downtown with Jehan.

He said he didn’t notice, he brushed it all off, but when Courf offered to buy him sushi if he went to the restaurant to see R perform, he agreed, rather fervently. He didn’t know why. He didn’t even  _ like _ sushi. But Courfeyrac and Combeferre exchanged knowing smiles, and Enjolras was left confused and thinking they knew something he didn’t.

And so, after the meeting concluded, Enjolras found himself in the backseat of Courfeyrac’s car(or “death trap,” as he so lovingly put it), toying with his cell phone in his lap as they drove to the sushi place Grantaire and Jehan had mentioned. The restaurant was nice - dimly lit with blue and purple lights, couches next to big windows and booths in small areas in the back for those who want private time. Courf told the hostess they’re here to see the performance, so she seated them on a couch right next to the stage - Enjolras faced the stage, Combeferre next to him, with Courfeyrac sitting at the end of the table next to Combeferre so he could see the stage. They ordered their drinks and the waiter assigned to them ran off.

“Are you excited?” Combeferre nudged Enjolras’s arm with his elbow.

Enjolras shrugged. “Sure, I guess. I didn’t know Grantaire was a musician,” he mumbled as he continued to look over the menu. He decided on a beef udon thing. He wasn’t totally sure what most of the menu meant.

“He does it in his spare time,” Courfeyrac said as he leaned back into his chair. “He said he’s played guitar since high school, but never really had the confidence to perform. Jehan got him to do that. Now he does shows at restaurants and clubs and coffee shops, you know.”

“How have I never heard of it?”

“He probably didn’t think you’d care, E. He didn’t want to bother you.”

“It wouldn’t have bothered me, though.”

“Yeah, well,” Courf scoffed. “Try and tell  _ him _ that.” He notioned toward the hall from which Grantaire and Jehan were entering - acoustic guitars in both their hands, engrossed in conversation and hardly noticing the three next to the stage. They sat on the stools onstage before noticing the other Amis. Jehan waved excitedly at them with a smile of pure wonderment - ever the child at heart. Grantaire grinned as he tossed up a hand in a vague wave, meeting Enjolras’s eyes for a split second before changing his gaze completely.

They didn’t tune their guitars onstage.  _ Must have tuned before coming out, _ Enjolras thought, and then wondered why he was reading so much into this. The moment R met his eyes still burned in his chest.

Jehan started the first song, nimble fingers on a black board, tapping one hand on the guitar for a beat. Grantaire joined about one measure in, playing in a higher octave in small bits and pieces. A few measures later, he started to sing, and Enjolras felt his heart tighten in his chest.  _ He’s a baritone _ , he thought. His voice was like silk,  _ no, velvet, _ he thought, _ it’s silky and smooth like the fine wine he drinks, and oh god, his vibrato, I’m actually going to cry- _ Combeferre nudged Enjolras again, and he closed the mouth he didn’t realize was hanging open. The waiter was grinning at him. “Have you decided to order, sir?”

Enjolras stuttered to get out his order. Grantaire was still singing, now with Jehan joining him in a high octane harmony. It was enchanting. It was like hearing an angel sing, but so impossibly human at the same time - from the way R let a note fade away into nothing to the pained facial expressions he used as he sang a particularly strong line. Between songs, he would run a hand through his unruly black curls. That frustrated Enjolras more than it should’ve.

The songs he sang were often about love - about unrequited love, about following someone to their dying day. “I wrote this one,” he murmured into the microphone before a song about sharing a dying breath with someone “unrelenting and cruel, but so, so beautiful,” and Enjolras wondered what prompted the song.

Their food arrived while Grantaire and Jehan were regrouping after that song, and Jehan leant over and stole a pea off Combeferre’s plate. Grantaire mumbled, “cute,” in response.

The men ended their show with a high note that made Enjolras’s hair stand on end as he tried to finish his dinner. Courfeyrac waved them over as they left the stage, and they followed.

Grantaire sat across from Enjolras, Jehan across from Combeferre.

“Good job, hot stuff,” Courf nearly hollered over the now-blasting music from the restaurant’s radio. Grantaire snorted as he took a sip of Combeferre’s soda.

“No alcohol tonight?” Combeferre asked.

“Nah,” Grantaire shook his head as he stretched. “I’m trying to quit.”

Combeferre patted him on the arm with a smile, congratulating him. Grantaire glanced at Enjolras again, his smile fading the slightest as he did. Enjolras smiled back at him. “Good for you, R,” he said. He received a nod of thanks in response.

The waiter came back to the table, and they ordered dessert, alongside a water for Grantaire. No cucumber. Enjolras made a mental note of that. He didn’t know why.

He watched Grantaire all night - he made quite the conversational partner when they weren’t positively screaming at each other. Apparently Enjolras was the same way - and R told him so.

“You’re great when you’re not pissed,” he had said.

“You too.”

“Is that a  _ compliment? _ From  _ Enjolras?” _ Grantaire put a hand on his chest as if he were clutching his pearls. “By God, I have been graced with such-”

“Oh, you dick,” Enjolras said, making sure to smile so Grantaire knew he wasn’t serious.

Grantaire laughed. “Oh, but I’m serious. You should compliment me more. In fact, keep doing it,” he took a swig of water, watching Enjolras all the while. When Enjolras started to speak, Grantaire waved at him, interrupting him: “I was kidding, you goober. What did you think of the show, by the way? This is me fishing for compliments.”

Enjolras snorted with a light laugh. “Do you want me to be honest?”

“Painfully.”

Jehan interrupted this time. “He’s a masochist!” he said, before Grantaire hit him on the arm and pushed him to the other side of couch, laughing.

“Personal problems, Jehan! Anyway. Tell me how you feel. I wouldn’t dish it if I couldn’t take it.”

“What, are you expecting me to insult you? This is your element. You were great. Both of you,” Enjolras felt his cheeks heat up, and looked down at the glass of wine in front of him. It was mostly full. He couldn’t drink when he was so focused on the music. “You harmonize well.”

Grantaire was grinning in a way Enjolras had never seen anymore. It was almost shy. It made Enjolras’s stomach do backflips. The way he bit his lip before he spoke didn’t help, either.

“Uh, thanks, Enj. I don’t really know what I expected. I know Jehan’s good, I mean,  _ of course, _ ” he nudged Jehan, who only smiled brightly. “But you know, I’ve never had much confidence in-”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re a musician?”

“What?”

“That seems like something I should know,” Enjolras said, looking up from his wine, then smiling. “You’re not in trouble, I’m just curious.”

Grantaire had a deer-in-the-headlights look on his face, now, and Enjolras felt a little guilty. Maybe now wasn’t the time to interrogate him.

“I just, uh,” he looked off to the side that Jehan wasn’t on, “I didn’t think you’d really give a damn. You’re busy all the time. School and saving the world are more important than my little concerts.”

“But I’d like to know what my friends are doing, R,” Enjolras sighed, “Especially when they’re performing in expensive sushi restaurants. And when they’re good at it.”

Grantaire looked like he’s shrinking in upon himself. He was looking at the bar. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Time seemed to stop when Grantaire looked at him, now, shocked, like he expected a rant or something - was that really the person he’d come to know Enjolras as? No wonder he didn’t tell him about the music.  _ He must hate me, huh, _ Enjolras thought.

Their desserts were set on their table after what seemed like an eternity. Shame permeated throughout Enjolras as Grantaire continued conversation with the others, normally, as if they hadn’t just had a real  _ moment, _ or maybe Enjolras had imagined it, and Grantaire didn’t actually care at all. He couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Grantaire’s face. He kept imagining all the times he insulted him for drinking, for being a cynic, for egging him on in verbal battle - maybe Grantaire actually wanted a debate, but Enjolras never had any of that. Grantaire forced him to produce studies and eloquently-put theses that he used in protests. Maybe that’s what he  _ wanted. _ Maybe Grantaire wasn’t the hateful person Enjolras had perceived him as.

And this all started with a simple “It’s okay.”

Enjolras knew he was overthinking. He knew he was reading too much into things. He always did that, and then anxiety would creep up, he’d be on edge for days and then sleep for days.

But he couldn’t help the feeling he got when he and R exchanged glances between sentences as they finished off the shared vanilla ice cream - which Grantaire had ordered - and began to pull their wallets out for the bill, before Courfeyrac gave them both stern, aggressive looks, forcing them retreat. “I  _ told _ you I would pay, you dorks.” He was half-smiling.

As they left the restaurant, Enjolras found himself subconsciously closing in on Grantaire. Before they went to their respective cars, Enjolras grabbed R by the arm and pulled him in to whisper: “Can we talk privately for a bit?”

They decided Jehan would ride home with Courf and Ferre, and Enjolras with R.  _ Worst case scenario, I’ll get a cab, _ he thought. The two walked down the street, about a foot apart, not saying much of anything. It wasn’t really all that cold, but Enjolras found himself shivering nevertheless.

“Do you want my coat? You look awfully cold,” Grantaire asked. He started taking off the faded grey hoodie before Enjolras could say no.

“... Thank you.”

They walked a little more before Grantaire broke the silence again. “You wanted to talk?” His voice was small, like he was afraid. This added to the list of things Enjolras shamed himself with.

“Yeah. Yeah. Uh,” Enjolras started, cheeks already feeling hot. “When you apologized, and I said it’s okay, you… you looked shocked. Listen, I know I haven’t been the kindest to you-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m going to worry about it, R! I,” he sighed, then took in a sharp breath - he felt like crying. “I know I can be a total asshole sometimes. I don’t mean to be. I swear. I get carried away and sometimes you upset me so much and I’ve been thinking about it all night and I think maybe you don’t do it to upset me and I’ve been overreacting this whole time and I was acting like a petulant child and treating you like dirt when you had legitimate problems and I-” Grantaire stopped Enjolras with a hand on his back and the other on his lips, shushing him. The look on his face was gentle, and Enjolras realized for the first time quite how much taller he was than R.

“It’s okay, Enj.”

Enjolras spoke through the finger on his lips. “No, it’s not.”

Grantaire smiled at him, with brown eyes glistening with the neon lights of downtown clubs. “Listen. I wasn’t being the most mature either. It was part of the reason I decided to quit drinking - I did it to deal with pain, but the shit I did when I was drunk only caused more pain, and more reasons to drink. I decided I was done with that. And obviously, you’ve decided you don’t like arguing with me, either, so it’s done. It’s over. It’s okay.” And he lowered his hand from Enjolras’s mouth - but kept the one on his back where it was.

“You looked like you were so used to me hurting you,” Enjolras knew his voice sounded broken and pathetic. He couldn’t bring himself to care at this particular moment.

“I-... I was used to everyone hurting me, Enj. I’m sensitive,” he laughed to himself. “I’ve been through a lot of shit in my life. I know, we all have, but I never found a healthy way of dealing with things. So I fought against you to get you to say stuff you didn’t mean - I think I thought it was funny to get hurt when I was drunk. I would sober up and feel horrible, and then drink more. But, Enj, I’ve been seeing a therapist, and she’s helped me out of that, so we don’t have to worry about fighting anymore. If you don’t want to, that is.”

Enjolras felt tears stinging his eyes. He knew it was visible to Grantaire, too, and he felt so ashamed of himself - but Grantaire only brought his free hand up to cup Enjolras’s cheek.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. They were deathly close now. Enjolras could smell the mint bubblegum Grantaire had been chewing, and the nice cologne he was wearing. At least, it smelled nice. Grantaire smelled nice.

He didn’t know why he did it, but at this point he didn’t know anything. He lunged forward and pressed his lips against Grantaire’s. He thought, _ God, I must look so stupid, _ when Grantaire was reluctant to kiss back.

But when he did kiss Enjolras, he  _ kissed _ Enjolras. The hand on his cheek tangled in fluffy blonde hair, his thumb lightly rubbing against Enjolras’s jawline. He felt Grantaire’s other hand fist into the jacket before moving under it and resting on Enjolras’s hip. Enjolras found his arm around Grantaire’s waist, his opposite hand resting on his chest, rubbing the tattooed collarbone exposed by his partially open button-up.

When they parted, they stayed close. They could still taste each other’s breath. Enjolras really wished he had taken a mint.

“God,” Grantaire whispered, almost to himself. He bit his lip in that infuriating way again and Enjolras smiled to himself.

“Agreed.”

Grantaire laughed. He looked back up at Enjolras with those eyes.  _ God, those eyes. _ He pulled the blonde back down, kissing him more bravely this time - Enjolras could feel his breath and the way his hands shivered as they held him tighter and tighter. He nipped at Grantaire’s bottom lip, then dived in on the subsequent open-mouthed moan, licking into him with fervor.

_ I didn’t know he had his tongue pierced, _ Enjolras thought, and he was starting to think maybe he didn’t know Grantaire at all anymore.

He was shivering again when Grantaire pulled back, grinning and laughing vaguely.

“This is nice, Enj, but maybe making out on the pavement downtown is not a great idea. My car’s back there,” he pointed to the old van next to the restaurant they’d left.

When they did get into Grantaire’s car, they were silent. Enjolras could hear Grantaire’s ragged breathing. He started the car hurriedly, mumbling something about the heater.

“I wasn’t actually cold,” Enjolras grinned as he handed Grantaire his coat, which was promptly tossed into the back seat. “I was shaking because I was nervous.”

“Hearing you say you were nervous is surreal.”

“Well, I am indeed a human.”

“Could have fooled me,” Grantaire smiled as he brought his hand to Enjolras’s cheek again. “I mean that in a good way.”

Enjolras smiled back at him, taking the hand into his own, intertwining their fingers. Before he could second-guess himself, he asked, “Your place or mine?”

Grantaire laughed, the sound easing Enjolras’s racing heart. “Slow down, there, killer.”

“No, but seriously, I don’t want to go home yet.”

“My place, then.”

Grantaire turned the radio on - classic rock, Enjolras made a note of that, too - and they went on to his apartment.

As he unlocked the apartment, Grantaire said, “I’m sorry in advance for how messy I am. There’s a project due in a couple weeks and I keep restarting, ‘cause I’m an idiot,” and he let Enjolras in.

It wasn’t  _ that _ bad. It was a studio, with an easel with a half finished sketch on canvas sitting atop it - a drawing of Gavroche in a hoodie and sweats, blowing bubbles. There were a few papers and discarded canvases, but other than that, it looked like every other twenty-something’s apartment. Enjolras kicked off his shoes and sat on the bed, watching Grantaire slip out of his flannel and torn up sneakers before joining him. He seemed to be avoiding eye contact, a nervous smile on his face, and he kept biting his lip. A habit, it seemed. His hands were on his thighs, knotted into fists.

Enjolras took it upon himself to make the first move, again, taking Grantaire’s hands and lifting them so he could run his fingers through blond hair - both men relaxed at the sensation. “R, look at me,” Enjolras commanded, and Grantaire complied, near immediately. His cheeks were red, pupils blown wide so the brown of his eyes was but a sliver. Enjolras kissed him again.

This time, they were both more brave. Enjolras’s hands rested on Grantaire’s hips and relished in the softness they found there - Grantaire fisted one hand in Enjolras’s hair as the other roamed his neck and chest. When Enjolras’s hands found their way under Grantaire’s shirt, he gasped, and Enjolras took advantage of the gape of his mouth, tentatively rolling his tongue against Grantaire’s.

The way Grantaire moaned set Enjolras on fire.

They pulled apart, both breathing heavily and laughing a little. Grantaire untangled his hand from Enjolras’s hair to run it across his face, staring as he did so. His eyes trailed his own fingers as they crossed forehead, then cheekbone, jawline, and he stopped at the lips. He seemed captivated. Enjolras grinned under Grantaire’s touch, and the other gasped so lightly, that if he weren’t within a foot of him, he wouldn’t have noticed.

“God,” Grantaire repeated for the thousandth time, “you are so fucking beautiful.”

Enjolras kissed Grantaire’s thumb before diving into his neck, kissing up and down and everywhere he could touch, finding the spots that made Grantaire quiver and lingering. He knew he was leaving marks.

“You know how long I’ve wanted to tell you that?” Grantaire asked.

“Hmm?” Enjolras continued to work on riddling his neck with nips and hickeys.

“That you’re beautiful. Every time I see you, it’s like -  _ nnh  _ \- like seeing God. At first I thought you were a figment of my imagination.”

“That’s cute.”

“I’m  _ serious. _ I couldn’t imagine a real man existing who meets all of my standards so precisely,” He pulled Enjolras’s head up with a finger on his chin. “And then some.”

“I’m not great with words, R,” Enjolras whispered. He spoke into Grantaire’s mouth, kissing him between words.

“That’s okay, I am.”

“Confidence. I like it.”

“You’d better,” Grantaire grins before moving, straddling Enjolras’s lap. He gave the blonde a wicked smirk and pulled Enjolras’s too-tight band tee off, following suit with his sinful half-buttoned button-up.

“That top is evil, by the way.”

“What top? You’re the only top I see here,” and okay, that actually made Enjolras laugh.

“That’s an  _ awful _ joke!” He pushed Grantaire, but not nearly enough to knock him over. Grantaire only laughed harder. “Besides, how do you know if I’m a top or not?”

“Well, one, I’m never wrong. Two, you have to be, or tonight’s gonna be really disappointing for both of us.”

“Fair enough.”

“Anyway,” Grantaire kissed Enjolras’s abdomen as they pushed themselves up so Enjolras was on the pillows. “How was my shirt evil?”

“It, uh,” Grantaire raked a hand through Enjolras’s hair again, kissing and biting his neck the way Enjolras had done to him moments before. “It was, like, all -  _ God, R - _ open and stuff. I don’t -  _ fuck - _ I don’t know. You’ve got chest hair and tattoos and it was, like, really, really hot.”

Grantaire was working his way down Enjolras’s abdomen, now. He started to unbutton E’s jeans as he said, “Oh, good, that’s what I was going for,” with a grin.

“You wanted people to fuck you?”

“I wanted  _ you _ to fuck me.” Enjolras  _ definitely _ didn’t whine at that. It was more of a low groan, he told himself. He threw his hands into Grantaire’s hair.

An experimental tug told him that was a good idea, if R’s tiny gasp had anything to say about it.

The jeans came off and Grantaire stared at Enjolras for a little bit. He moved back up his body, launching them into a heavy kiss as he tore off his own jeans.

There was an obvious moan when Grantaire bit into Enjolras’s bottom lip, blunt fingernails digging into the skin on his back. Grantaire straddled him again, rutting against him in tight boxer briefs. Neither could help the moans they let out at the friction. 

Enjolras grabbed Grantaire’s thigh and squeezed, fingernails digging into the skin there. He could feel a scar under his palm. Grantaire gasped into his mouth again, before laughing and kissing him delicately.

“You’re going to drive me insane, Apollo.” His voice was hoarse, you could hear the smoker in the back of his throat, and it sounded almost like a broken whine.

Enjolras chuckled and dug his fingernails into Grantaire’s thigh once more, pulling his hips down so that they were flush against each other, the only thing separating them being cheap boxers. “I’m already halfway there,” he whispered, “might as well take you with me.”

Grantaire let his head lower into the crook of Enjolras’s neck as he let out a low moan. They stayed like that for a moment, breathing heavily into each others shoulders, hearts racing, hands shaking. Grantaire made the first move to continue.

He sat up as he shimmied down Enjolras’s chest, back down to where he was before he took his jeans off. He kissed Enjolras’s hip, his belly button, his chest, his thigh - then settled between his legs as he stared down the bulge in red boxers. He let out a shaky breath before raising a hand and palming him, earning a head thrown back and a heavy sigh-turned-moan. Grantaire watched as Enjolras ran a hand through his own hair. The same hand went into Grantaire’s hair as he hooked a finger under the waistband of Enjolras’s boxers and pulled.

“This feels like a dream,” Grantaire mumbled as Enjolras sprang free of the elastic band. “You have no idea how many times I fantasized about this. God, that sounds weird. Sorry.” He hid his face with his hair, continuing to look down at Enjolras’s groin.

“You’ve fantasized about me?”

“... Yeah.”

Enjolras hummed, toying with Grantaire’s hair. He didn’t pry. No sense in ruining their good time by badgering Grantaire. The conversation ended there.

Grantaire ran his fingers tentatively up Enjolras’s cock, earning a tug at his hair and a harsh intake of breath. Enjolras swore through gritted teeth as Grantaire began stroking, using his own saliva as lube.

Enjolras looked down, and Grantaire was staring at him. His lips were parted, eyes wide, eyebrows high - he looked shocked again, but the red in his cheeks said that that wasn’t a bad thing. Enjolras propped himself up on his elbow and watched as Grantaire licked his lips, eyes darting back to his task, and he sighed, a whimper escaping as he did so.

Then his mouth was on Enjolras, and all thought was lost.

Enjolras was not a virgin. This was not the first time he’d received a blowjob, either. But somehow, this time, it felt like the first. There was something about how passionately Grantaire did it -  _ He likes this, _ Enjolras thought - about the way his stubble grazed the insides of Enjolras’s thighs, about the quaking grip of artist hands on muscular thighs, about the way brown eyes lifted up to stare into blue. Enjolras did his best to look back, but he felt like his eyes needed to roll back, he needed to let his head fall back and his hair fall off his neck - and he did so, and he felt Grantaire take him deeper when he did.

Grantaire knew what he was doing. He moved in a calculated way, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, occasionally focusing in on the head, tongue ring toying with the vein on the bottom on Enjolras’s cock, hands roaming from thigh to groin to chest to ass, and back again.  _ How many people has he done this with, _ Enjolras wondered, before brushing off the thought in favor of focusing on the man between his legs.

He could feel himself getting close. He tried to tug Grantaire off as a warning, but Grantaire only pulled against him, looking him in the eye as he did it. If he could smirk with Enjolras’s cock in his mouth, he would have. He sank down as far as he could go.

Enjolras dug both hands into Grantaire’s hair when he came. He pulled maybe too hard, but found he couldn’t release his grip as Grantaire swallowed around him, hands holding his hips down. He kept his eyes shut as he came down from his high, breathing harsh and ragged, hair sticking to his face and neck with sweat.

Grantaire rose and kissed him, and he knew that he probably should have been disgusted with the taste of his own cum on his lips, but he only pulled Grantaire closer, wrapping his arms around the other man’s neck, tugging until they were all skin-on-skin. Grantaire was still wearing his boxers.

Enjolras laid huffing, face still red, lips still parted, as Grantaire let his head rest in the crook of Enjolras’s neck, kissing delicately, his hands still roaming.

“Give me a minute,” Enjolras whispered.

Grantaire sat up and asked, “What?”

“Well, I’m not gonna leave you hanging.”

The smile Grantaire gave was almost incredulous. “Oh,” he avoided Enjolras’s eyes again, “You really don’t have to worry about me.”

Enjolras sighed and ran his hands through dark curls before pulling them out again, grabbing his hips, and flipping them over, smirking when Grantaire gasped. “I started this, R,” he kissed Grantaire’s temple gently, “I’m going to finish it.” Enjolras could barely hear a swear under Grantaire’s breath.

His hand traveled up to the neck, thumbing Grantaire’s Adam’s apple with a low hum. He studied the tattoos that covered nearly half Grantaire’s torso. A phoenix on his bicep, some song lyrics on his collarbone, a griffin on his stomach. He focused in on a small portrait of a Greek statue. He traced the features with his thumb. “Who is this?”

Grantaire grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers. “Apollo.”

“What?”

Now, Grantaire laughed. “No, it’s Apollo. The tattoo. It’s of Apollo.”

Enjolras hummed again. “Okay,” he brought Grantaire’s hand up to kiss his knuckles. “Why do you call me that?”

“I never pegged you for a talkative lover.”

“Answer me, and I’ll stop talking,” he knew that was a lie, but he kept on.

Grantaire gave a breathy laugh. “You’ll figure it out soon enough. You’re smart.”

“Or you could just tell me.”

“Or not. I like watching you squirm.” Enjolras pushed lightly against Grantaire’s shoulder as he laughed.

“Whatever,” he knew his smile was audible. He took his hand away from Grantaire to continue trailing the tapestry across his chest, from griffin to statue to nature scene to the waistband on his underwear. He noticed how a few tattoos dipped below his waistline, and it made his breath hitch. He tugged the garment down and Grantaire let his head fall back onto a pillow with a sigh. He looked like he was ready to burst.

It didn’t take long to bring him off, only a few minutes and he was done, but  _ God, _ it felt like Earth was crashing down on Enjolras in those few minutes. The noises Grantaire made were hypnotizing, soft and almost inaudible, but passionate all the same. His voice was hoarse. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip, tugged at Enjolras’s hair, fisted the sheets - like this was the best thing he’d ever experienced. Enjolras could see sweat forming around his face, on his neck and chest. His hair stuck to him where it could. It was beautiful, seeing Grantaire come undone like this.

Enjolras kissed his neck, and that seemed to be what did it. He came with stuttered breaths, shaking, whimpering, clamoring for a grip on Enjolras, anything. He settled for holding onto his arms tightly.

When he came down, he went limp against the bed, chest heaving. “God -  _ fuck _ ,” He breathed as he stared up at the ceiling.

Enjolras felt it in his heart - Grantaire expected him to up and leave. The way he just stared off, not saying anything, something vaguely painful on his face, one could tell he was expecting hurt.

So he kissed Grantaire square on the lips, wrapping one arm around his waist and letting the other fall next to his head.

_ I’m never gonna get used to him, _ Enjolras thought.  _ Damn, he’s a good kisser. _

He pulled away before he could get hard again. The tongue ring alone was enough to do that.

They stayed like that for a few moments, forehead-to-forehead, just breathing. Neither’s eyes were open.

Then Enjolras’s phone went off.

They both jolted and laughed. “Well, that’s a buzzkill,” he said as he hopped off the bed to grab his phone out of the pants that had been tossed onto the floor.

“I’ll get a washcloth, then,” Grantaire added, busying himself with that task.

The text was in the triumvirate’s group chat.

**combeferre:** Where the hell are you?

**enjolraw:** i’m at r’s don’t worry about it

**xxcourfeyracxx:** oh jesus

**xxcourfeyracxx:** did you fuck

**combeferre:** You didn’t do anything stupid, did you

**enjolraw:** no it’s ok

**enjolraw:** and before you start, no, i’m not drunk

**enjolraw:** we had a wonderful time

**xxcourfeyracxx:** did you have sex or not???

Grantaire came back with a wet washcloth and began cleaning up Enjolras’s free hand and stomach, along with his own. “Are your minions calling you back to the lair?” Enjolras snorted.

**xxcourfeyracxx:** answer me coward!!!

**combeferre:** I don’t want to hear details.

**xxcourfeyracxx:** well i do now spill

**xxcourfeyracxx:** does he have a big dick

**enjolraw:** jesus, dude.

**combeferre:** Don’t answer that, please.

“They’re badgering me about you.”

“Oh. Cute. What did you say?”

Enjolras showed him the chat, and Grantaire laughed. “Tell them it’s enormous.”

“Absolutely  _ not. _ ”

**enjolraw:** r says hi

**xxcourfeyracxx:** hi r

**combeferre:** Are you coming back to the dorm or not?

**enjolraw:** why? so you can fuck courf?

**xxcourfeyracxx:** yes exactly

**xxcourfeyracxx:** we haven’t had sex in so long e please

**combeferre:** A week is hardly a long time.

**enjolraw:** ok tmi

**enjolraw:** r said i can stay over

**xxcourfeyracxx:** yessssssssssss love u

**combeferre:** Then I bid you farewell.

**enjolraw:** ew you guys are gross

Grantaire watched the whole thing, laughing all the way. “I thought they were together, you know,” He said, after Enjolras closed the chat. “But it would’ve been rude to ask.”

“Oh, they’re super together. Courfeyrac called me the first time they slept together to tell me that Combeferre’s dick was  _ magic.” _

“Gross.”

“Yeah.”

Grantaire grabbed the phone out of Enjolras’s hand and sat it on his bedside table, smiling at Enjolras. “Sleep?”

“Sleep.”


End file.
